


Flu Season

by dcjuris



Series: Being Human [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Human Castiel, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sick Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-01-31 01:50:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21438220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcjuris/pseuds/dcjuris
Summary: Sam has the flu.I ended up having to post this via my phone, because my ancient laptop has decided it no longer likes AO3, so if you notice an error please let me know and I'll fix it. ::glares at laptop::
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Being Human [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/830730
Comments: 4
Kudos: 94





	Flu Season

Everyone Castiel has ever met—including people who knew John and Mary—will tell you that, by far, Dean is the more aggressive Winchester. Dean is the fighter. He's lost count of how many times he's heard Dean is a shoot first, ask questions later kinda guy. Dean is thunder and lightning and fury—sometimes righteous, sometimes not—where Sam is rain and wind and compromise—always trying to find the best way, the least bloody way. Those people, however, have never placed themselves between Sam and his brother. Those people are unequivocally, categorically wrong.

Right now, Sam Winchester is a fever-addled category five hurricane, and his fury is solely focused on Cas. He ducks a right hook but even three days into the flu and running on half a bowl of tomato soup and rice from day one, Sam is faster and stronger. Cas grunts as Sam's left arm comes up and slams into his chest, pinning him against the wall. Sam's right hand wraps around his throat.

"Where. Is. My. Brother?" Sam demands.

"Pl—" He tries to get the words out, but all he ends up with is a croak.

"Tell me where he is!" Sam's eyes are wild and glassy above bright red cheeks, his hair matted to his forehead. Sweat runs down his skin in shiny rivulets. In another situation, Cas would want to lick it up.

Last Cas knew, Sam was asleep. Dean left on a supply run—they needed more flu medicine and Gatorade. He'd been certain Sam would stay asleep. He'd been wrong.

Cas tries to haul air into his lungs but he can't. Spots dance at the edge of his vision.

Sam's voice is deadly calm when he speaks again. "Angel or not, I will tear you apart with my bare hands if you've hurt him. I. Will. End. You."

"Sam?"

Cas has never heard a more beautiful sound than Dean's voice at that moment. 

Dean drops the bags he's holding and rushes toward them. "Sam! Hey!"

Sam immediately lets go of Cas and turns, barrels into his brother, practically wrapping himself around Dean. 

"Hey, hey. It's okay." Dean pulls Sam tight against him with one hand, pets his hair with the other. "It's okay. Shhh." He looks at Cas, forehead creased, accusation written in his eyes. "What the hell happened?"

"I—" Cas clears his throat, swallows twice before he feels like he can talk. "I'm not sure. He must've woken up alone."

"I won't let him take you, Dean!"

"Nobody's taking me anywhere," Dean assures him.

"I won't. I can't. He can't have you. You're mine, Dean, mine."

Dean presses the back of his hand to Sam's forehead. "Jesus Christ, you're burnin' up, kiddo. C'mon, lets get you back to bed."

"Dean, please, please, you have to listen to me. You can trust me. I promise you can. I'm…I'll… Anything, Dean, I'll do anything!" Sam's sobbing now, clawing at Dean in desperation.

"Sammy…" Dean looks up at Cas, but all Cas can do is shrug. "Okay, all right, c'mon. Bedtime. Cas, bring the bags?"

He doubts he's welcome in Sam's personal space at the moment, but he grabs up the bags and follows them down the hall to the brothers' bedroom. He stays in the doorway while Dean manhandles the incoherent mess of Sam into bed and under the covers. 

Dean snaps his fingers in Cas' direction. "NyQuil!"

Cas rummages in the bag and hands over the medicine. 

Dean rips into the packaging with his teeth and has the bottle open and the dose poured in record time. He helps Sam sit up a bit and holds the little plastic cup up to Sam's lips. "There we go. Good job, Sammy. Okay. Lay back down and get some rest."

"I'll die, Dean."

"It's the flu, man, you're not gonna die."

"If he takes you. If…if you never trust me again. If you leave me. I'll die. I don't want to be without you, Dean. I can… I can be what you need. You can trust me. You have to trust me… Please…"

"I trust you, Sammy." Dean threads his fingers through Sam's hair. "I promise you, I do."

"He can't take you away." Sam coughs, chokes on phlegm and heartache.

"Shhh. Nobody's takin' me anywhere. I'm right here, baby boy. Right where I belong." Dean sits him up again and holds a paper towel for Sam to spit in. "Heh, gone from brown to green. Look at that. Progress, Sammy!"

Cas can't suppress his smile, and his wonder at Dean's ability to find something good in almost every situation.

"I'm sorry," Sam murmurs.

"Shhh." Dean squats down next to the bed and pushes Sam's hair back from his face. "Just rest, Sammy."

"I'm so sorry for all of it. Lilith. Ruby. The demon blood. I…I'm so sorry I became this thing. Please, Dean, please, don't stop loving me. Please. I can't…" His words end in another coughing fit, and this time he panics, grabbing for Dean while he chokes.

Cas goes instinctively, helps Dean get Sam sitting up again. He holds Sam steady while he vomits into another paper towel. Dean thumps and rubs his back, cooing soft words to him, telling him it's all okay, that he's safe, that he's trusted. Loved.

Sam quiets at last, exhaustion pulling him under. His eyes are already closed when Dean eases him down.

Dean scrubs a hand over his face as he stands. "Jesus Christ."

"Should we take him to the hospital?" Cas doesn’t have a lot of experience with Human ailments like the flu. It doesn’t seem life threatening, but he supposes it could turn serious.

"No. He'll be okay. He hallucinates when he has a fever. Sometimes it's the Cage—believe it or not it's actually easier when it's Lucifer. At least I can convince him it's all in his head when it's the Devil. Not so much when it's this shit." He lingers at Sam's side, trails his fingertips over Sam's cheek.

"Maybe we shouldn't leave him alone again."

"Yeah, probably not." They drag the chair from Cas' room into Sam's, set themselves up with Sam's laptop perched on top of a bookshelf, and settle into a marathon of Cupcake Wars, which, Dean warns him, is a Thing That Stays Between Us.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also a published author. If you like my writing style, check out my published works on Amazon by searching "DC Juris" - that's me. :-)


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